Say Je'taime
by BlueRain500
Summary: Francis finds little Michelle lost in the streets and takes her in. No more spoilers, you have to read to find out :3 Co-written with [Kiwi Flavored] :D Rated M for later content!
1. Like Stale Bread

**Authors note: Co-written story! Fuck yeah! One of my bestiest friends is writing Francis' perspective! [Kiwi Flavored] Check her outs!**

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**Chapter one: Like Stale Bread**

_Why does no one want me?_ I walked down the streets, looking for a new place to sleep. It was almost dark and it was raining. The baker didn't like me sleeping in the tree beside his trash cans and digging in them after he would throw away the stale bread no one wanted… Was I like stale bread? What's a five year old girl going to do? I need food and a place to sleep. A man with a long dark curly beard and eyes the matched locked onto mine. A cat like smile crossed his face, and terror shot through me. He hobbled towards me, his ratty trench coat dragging in the puddles.

"You poor dear," He purred sadistically. I backed away slipping in a puddle and getting completely drenched.

"Come, come with me dear." He looked me over, and looked like he was ready to eat me. "You're such a pretty young dear too, what with your blonde hair," He took a few strands of my hair and let them slip through his boney fingers. "a little short, but we can always grow it out. And those pretty blue eyes. Oh, how much money men will pay for you…." He trailed off. Pay for me? Like, to take care of me? A family! I had to know, but it didn't seem safe.

"W-what do you mean pay for?" I stammered, scared that I may not have a family… The old man smiled at me. I don't know why but something about this man's smile didn't feel safe.

"Why darling, you'll have a place to sleep, food to eat, and someone that loves you, for a cost of course." That's when my blood ran cold, and he grabbed my arm in a rough manner. I was ready to scream, when a force knocked him away from me.

I looked up at the tall man. He had blonde hair that was slightly curly and pulled back in a ponytail. He's eyes looked like mine, a beautiful ice blue but much more fierce looking. We looked very much alike. The man grumbled some words I didn't know and looked up at the blonde man, rubbing the side of his cheek.

"What are you doing with her?" The man was obviously French, and his voice was trickling with ice. His heavy French accent was angered. The man just laughed at his question.

"Nothing she does want, good sir." He scoffed, coughing up a tad bit of blood. It sounded as if the French man growled at him. "Now dear if you would come with me…" The old man reached out to me, and the French man stepped in front of me.

"You will not touch this girl, or it will be more than a bruised cheek." He snarled. The man stood and glared at him.

"Fine, the little smut is yours." The old man spit at his feet and walked off.

We stood for a while, watching the old man walk off. I sighed and looked down the street the opposite of where the old man was going. The night had fallen and I still have nowhere to sleep.

"Jeunes une," I turned at the language I longed to learn. The man was crouching down to my eye level. He smiled at me, and I found myself smiling back.

"Why don't you come with me? You must be hungry, and cold." He cooed.

Should I trust him? Why shouldn't I? He did save me.. I looked up at him and nodded. The man stood, holding his hand out to me. I placed mine in his, not realizing that this would be a motion I would be doing for the rest of my life.

We walked up the marble steps, high arches with beautiful stone swirling design, and stone columns decorated the porch. He opened the bright red wooden door, and we stepped into the hallway. After closing the door he turned to look at me, with that same smile plastered on his face.

"You wait here, and I'll get you a towel and a change of clothes." He gracefully walked off down the hallway, leaving me alone.

I stood for a moment and then decided to look around. I walked about half way down the hallway when the smell hit me. The wonderful smell of real food! I turned towards the smell and stepped into the kitchen. It was absolutely gorgeous, marble kitchen tops, a very shiny fancy looking oven and so many other cooking utensils. I walked over to the kitchen table and ran my hand over the smooth, glossy wood.

"I see you found your way to where the food is located." I jumped, pulling my hand away from the table. He laughed, stepping over to me and handing me a towel.

"How about we get you into something dry and then we eat, oui? Now just hold up your arms." I nodded and held up my arms, as he pulled off my wet white dress. I stood there in my undershirt and shivered. He stared at me, horrified at first, then he slowly composed himself.

"Little one, where did you get all these bruises and scars?" He locked eyes with me and I shuttered as I tried to block the memories. I looked away from him.

"M-my mother…she wasn't very nice…" I heard him take a deep breath.

"Well, we will no longer have to worry about that now, will we?" He smiled, and I nodded.

"C-can I call you Papa?" I asked, fear of rejection in my voice.

"Oui, but you have to tell me your name." I felt odd saying my name to a person I hardly know, but it felt safe.

"Michelle." And for the first time in a long time, I found myself truly smiling.

**Eleven years later. . . **

I popped up in of bed, looking around my room that has not changed in the eleven years I've slept in here. My walls were still the same pale blue, and my art desk sat in the corner with unfinished drawings scatter across the top. I leaped out of my bed, and scuttled over to my closet that was always full with new clothes. Papa always spoiled me. I grabbed my maple leaf over coat, a red tank top, and a short black skirt. I changed, putting my glasses on last. I walked over to my dressing mirror and brushed out my blonde hair. I looked at my eyes, the older I got, the darker they got. They almost look purple, but in the light they are ice blue like Papa's. I glared at myself in the mirror, and huffed.

"I really hate my hair.." I mutter as I tugged the odd little upside down curl that stuck out of my hair. I gave up, and stomped down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Shoot!" I exclaimed as I noticed pancake batter got all over my coat and skirt. I heard a chuckle, one that I've known since I was five. I turned around to see a smiling Papa, and I couldn't help smiling back.

"You know mon Cherie , you've never been the best at not getting messy." He laughed, and I gave him an embarrassed shrug.

"Why don't you go up to my bathroom and clean up, oui? I'll be up there in a minute."

I slowly walked up the stairs to Papa's bathroom. It's been forever since I've been in Papa's bathroom. I stepped into his room and it was as beautiful as ever: A circular bed, with plush red pillows and blankets to match. I took a moment to inhale, as the strong sent of roses filled my nose and lungs. There were old French revolutionary pictures hung around in his room. Slowly, I made my way into his bathroom, stepping onto cold marble floor. Everything seemed to be tented with gold: The beautiful double sink, with the ever so big mirror, (Papa love's to make sure he looks good) the large circular bath tub with mirrors surrounding it. I began to clean myself when I heard footsteps, they were not coming to the bathroom as I expected. I looked down at my skirt and coat, it looked clean enough, just a little white stain. I was walking down the stairs when the yelling started.

"I want her back!" A woman's voiced yelled. A voice even when intoxicated I recognized. Papa seemed annoyed, I knew he had dealt with her before, but I know my Mother had never taken the time to come to his home to try and get me.

"Bella, would you please excuse yourself from my threshold. I do not have the time to deal with you and you whiskey scented breath." He snarled. I stood behind him and held his hand. This woman who is my "mother" put me through hell when I was little…and Papa knows where every bruise and scar came from and why.

"I'll call the cops on you! You kidnapped her!" She attempted to threaten, shoving my father in the chest.

"And you beat the child!" My father screamed. He glared her down. I've never really seen Papa mad, and it wasn't pleasant. My mother crashed through the door and right into me. I stumbled back a bit, and looked at her with fear. She looked me over and her eyes stopped right on the stains.

"What is this!? Are you letting her sleep around?" She screamed at Papa, then glared at me. "You little smut, I always knew you'd be no good. So, how many boys do you have up there, hmm? Three, four? I guess it doesn't matter we find out when you're pregnant." She snarled.

This woman knew nothing about me, how could I be sleeping around when I don't even know anyone. Now that I say that, it's kind of pathetic. May be she'll understand if I try to explain it to her.

"M-mother, it's just pancake batter.." The words stumbled out in a flurry. She just laughed at me. What have I ever done wrong to this woman?

"Child, you have to really think I'm stupid. Do you really think I'm going to believe that _that's_ pancake batter?" She scoffed, pointing at the stains. I had finally had enough.

"I'm not like you! So why would I even have men in my room?! I didn't whore around like you did, let alone have a child I didn't want!" I screamed at her. Shock crossed her face and my fathers. Then it happened, her right fist met my left check. I stumbled to the side, using the wall for balance. I held my cheek as it throbbed with pain.

"Get out!" My father screamed. He started to gently shove her out the door. Papa would never hit a lady, but it looked as if he was using all his might not to.

"Go ahead, kick me out, but I'm taking her with me." She smirked. "And you can't say no, or I'll call the cops and tell them you abuse her." She gave us both a wicked cat-like smile.

"What?" My father growled. She laughed even more at his anger.

"You heard me Francis, I'll tell the cops you kidnapped her and that you are abusing her. She has the scars to prove it."

"And what if she denies that it was me? What if she tells them it was you?" Papa was now standing in front of me, protecting me as always. I knew he wouldn't let her take me without a fight.

"I'll just tell them you said you'd kill her if she told the truth, so she had to blame her sweet loving mother. Really Francis, who do you think they are going to believe?" The horrible thing is, she was right. They'd believe the woman over the man any day. I couldn't let Papa go to jail, not because of me.

"Papa, I'll go with her." My voice was shaking, and my entire body was trembling. He turned to me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Michelle, you don't have to do this. We can figure this out. I swear I won't let her-" Tears were welling up in his eyes. We meant the world to each other, that's why I couldn't let him do this.

"Papa, you can't. What if they took her side? Then you'd go to jail and I'd have to go with her anyways." I leaned up and kissed his forehead. "I'll be okay Papa." He gave my shoulders a light squeeze. Mother had already walked out the door, but we both knew she was waiting outside, waiting for us to give our answer; the only one we could give.

He walked me to the door, holding my hand tight. We stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, then I alone began to walk down them. His grip tightened for an instant, then became lose. We held hands until our arms could no longer reach each other. I was scared that this was the last time I would hold his hand in mine.

I walked over to my mother. She stood at the open door of a taxi cab, and I slowly climbed in. She followed me in, and it was the first time I got a good look at my mother since I was five. Her hair was short now, about shoulder length and blonde like mine. Her green cat eye looked sweet, but behind them was a dark creature.

"Don't worry dear, you'll love living with me." She said sweetly. I knew she was putting on a show for the taxi driver; I would not be a part of it. I looked out the back window, and saw Papa standing were I left him, looking directly at me.

"Je t'aime…" I whispered. And to my happiness I saw him mouth the same words back to me. I knew then there was some hope of coming back to him one day. One day, I will get to hold my hand in his again.

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**And that's the end of chapter one! Leave me comments! Please? I'll give you a cookie :3 ... with chocolate chips? Don't forget to read Francis' perspective [Kiwi Flavored] :D**


	2. A Rose Among Gravel

**Authors note: Chapter 2! Yay!**

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**Chapter Two: A Rose Among Gravel**

I watched silently as Bella cooked food. It had been only a few days since Papa and I were separated. My depression over took me, so many things reminded me of him; the color red, anything warm and gentle, roses… I loved him. How could I not? He was my Papa after all….or was it more? Was it more than a father daughter relationship? He wasn't really my father, so…I shook my head at the thought.

"Child, you better eat this." Bella snarled at me. I huffed. She hasn't changed one bit, just like this raggedy apartment. The walls were dirty and moldy, the once white carpet was blackened with dirt and vomit stains. No wonder she would always go away to men's houses and stay there for days on end. Those night were lonely but peaceful, and safe. I turned back to look at the rotten table.

"Oui…." I muttered. Being taken away was not the only reason why I wasn't eating, Bella was a horrible cook and since my palliate has been so developed because of Papa's cooking, I wasn't sure I could stomach her food again. Bella set the plate in front of me and I stared off into space.

"Well….?" She huffed impatiently, her jade green eyes narrowed at me, waiting for me to take a bite. I was even sure what my meal was, so I looked down to examine my food. It was burnt of course, I stared at it hard. From what I could see and smell, it was roast beef, with a few unnameable vegetables. Under the smell of charcoal and smoke, it smells like rotted meat. Slowly, I ate every dry rough bite. I smiled and nodded at her, not because it was good,(and it wasn't) but because I would get beaten if I didn't, or she'd call the cops on Papa. She loved holding that over me. I would do anything to keep him safe. He saved me when I was little, I at least owe him this now.

Once I finished eating she told me to go to my "room" and wait for her, she said she had a surprise for me. My "room" was the worst corner in the entire apartment. It was moldy, and had a steady leak that could drive a person to insanity. I slowly sank down onto the crusty newspaper sheets that I would use as a kid for blankets. I ran my hands over the rough wrinkles of the paper. I used to read the newspaper every night before I would go to sleep. I looked down at the date on the newspaper, and chuckled to myself. I realized that the date on the newspaper was the same date as the night before I ran away. That was eleven years ago…eleven wonderful years with Papa…I hugged my knee's to my chest and cried softly into myself, wondering how much longer I would have to endure this hell.

I looked up a few moments later to the sound of plastic being crinkled. Bella pranced into the room with a long plastic bag, rustling against her arm. She stood in front of me, waiting for me to stand. Wiping my eyes, I stood. I maybe stood about a foot over her, my height must be something I got from my biological father.

"Michelle, you are going to have to start working. I don't want to waste all my money taking care of you." She sighed heavily as if she was the hardest working mother in the world. I sighed, knowing I couldn't say no, and nodded slowly.

"Good, now this is your uniform." She pushed the bag at me. I opened it in shock, and let the plastic bag fall to the floor in a lump. My "uniform" was a skimpy, lacy red push up bra, and an extremely short, frilly red skirt. I stared at it in bewilderment.

"Red seem to suit you very well. You'll be working at my place." She smirked at me, her green eyes dancing with mischief.

"Do you own a whore house?" I managed to utter. She smiled at me and my heart skipped a beat.

"Why as a matter of fact, I do." She whispered menacingly, pushing me into the bathroom to change.

"Now you'll be working as a stripper at first, then maybe I'll bump you up to a hooker." Bella smiled at me as if she had just said the best thing in the world. Wait…was she trying to be "motherly" by not making me sleep with people my first day? Ha! I pulled the long brown trench coat tighter around me. _At least she gave me something to cover myself. _I thought thankfully as we walked down the streets.

It was almost dusk when we got there. As I looked at the building it erased any hope at all that this may have been a sick joke. It was a tiny, black square building covered in pink neon. It was actually quite pretty, you know, if it wasn't for the fact that this was a whore house! We stepped through the heavily tinted doors, and I was greeted by howling men, the smell booze, sweat, and young ladies on stage dancing. I wanted to run, I wanted to get away from all of this, but Bella held me in place by my arm.

"Now, where is she…" She muttered, scanning the room.

"Bella!" A young girl with long, dusty brown hair leapt of the stage and trotted towards us. Her uniform was like mine except it had green fabric…and it was see through. I looked away.

"So is this the new girl?" She sounded Hungarian. She smiled brightly at me, her light green eyes full of excitement.

"Bonj~" I cut my greeting short as Bella glared at me. I forgot that I was no longer allowed to speak French.

"Um, hi." I whispered, staring down at my feet.

"I'm Elizabeta." She giggled. "You're a shy one aren't you?" She laughed and I gave her a shy smile. The Hungarian glanced down at my now slightly opened trench coat and squealed happily.

"Oh! Let me see your uniform!" She exclaimed loudly, causing everyone that was in hearing range to turn and look at me. I looked down, noticing that some of my bra was peeking through. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. I never know what to do when it comes to something concerning my body, I didn't have much self-confidence. Everyone was waiting, do I show them, or do I run away? My mother huffed, and stepped in front of me.

"You will all get to see soon enough, why waste a good surprise?" She announced. I wasn't sure whether to be grateful, or terrified of what was going to come next. There were a groans of disappointment, but none the less they listened to her. Did these people respect her?

"Elizabeta," the young girl turned happily at her name. "you will show Michelle the ropes and so on and so forth." She sighed flipping back her short blonde hair, and walking away from us hurriedly.

"I expect her to be ready by tonight. " She called to Elizabeta. Elizabeta nodded happily and rushed me down the hallway.

Sweat dripped down my forehead, I was burning up, but I couldn't stop now. I groaned, pushing as hard as I could. I had made a reputation of myself, and I was not about to give that up, that reputation is how I got moved up to a hooker. I screamed, using my hips as leverage.

"Get off me!" I screamed again, finally pushing this guy off me with my feet. It would have been easier if I wasn't handcuffed to the bed, but this guy was one of those weird guys.

"What the hell's wrong with you, da?" His Russian accent dripped with anger. I breathed heavily, this guy was a lot stronger than all the others. I kept my glare steady as the Russian man brushed his finger through his extremely light blonde-greyish hair. His deep purple eyes scanned my body, slowly shaking his head.

"You're far from worth it." He spat, throwing a few bills at me as he slipped back into his pants. He paced over to me, staring at the handcuffs. He leaned down, kissing my forehead as he released me. I let my arms flop onto the bed, I was too tired to try and push him off and my arms were so sore. The Russian bit the top of my ear hard, and I suppressed a whimper of pain. He purred into my ear.

"I _will_ get you….one day soon." He whispered then silently left the room. My blood ran cold and I curled up into a ball and tried to catch my breath. I wasn't sure if I could handle another client today. If I had another I'm sure he could over power me this time. I clenched the silk sheets in my fist and sobbed for my innocents. I couldn't give up, not just because I'm tried, Papa wouldn't give up…

I achingly raised myself off the bed, and stumbled weakly over to the night stand for a glass of water. I sighed happily, as the cool water danced its way down my throat. This is the first thing I've hand to drink in days, let alone eat. When was the last time I had food? The door slamming shut snapped me from my thoughts of food.

"Michelle really, you should just give into these men and let them have their way with you." Bella sighed, walking around the room to pick up the scattered bills. Elizabeta followed close behind. I rolled my eyes and laid back down on the bed. It was so warm and comfy….When was the last time I slept…?

"Elizabeta, clean her up would you? She has to be ready for her next client, Tina is putting him in room B13. Take her there when she's ready." Bella instructed before stepping out of the room.

Elizabeta dashed to my side, gently stroking my hair. We didn't know each other very well, but she was extremely kind. She helped sit me up and made me drink another glass of water, which I chugged. She helped me into the shower, she offered to help me but I insisted on cleaning myself. I turned on the hot water and let it engulf my body. I leaned up against the wall for a long time before washing my body and hair. I stepped out and Elizabeta was standing there waiting for me. I set down and in minutes I was ready to walk into room B13. I was dressed in was I arrived in on my first day, and heavy make-up. I used the Elizabeta and the wall for balance. We stopped in front of the room, and she embraced me. I was confused and startled by the hug, but returned it. She smiled at me, gently hugging my shoulders.

"I really respect you, good luck. This one's really good looking." And with that she skipped down the hallway. I took a deep breath and opened the door. The lights were off, I couldn't see a thing. My hand searched for the light switch. My fingertips grazed it, and I quickly turned on the lights.

"Bonjur mon che~" I stopped, or maybe it was everything else that stopped. Those blue eyes that I had looked into for years, that blonde wavy hair that framed his face perfectly. I thought I'd never see him again, and so soon. This was too good to be true. I felt the smile and shock dance across my face, and my heart began to race.

"P-Papa?!" I whispered, and tears filled my eyes. I haven't lost him for forever, and this time I was not going to let him go.

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**End note: So what did you think? Leave me comments! Comments = Canada love, and not whore love.. I mean real loves! :3  
~Don't forget to read Francis' point of view! [Kiwi Flavored]  
**


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